


The Unfortunate Fact is: Things Change

by Draikinator



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Funerals, Gen, Rewind2, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirl might not have friends, but he does have people who can sort of tolerate him in small doses, and that's probably the same thing. Anyway, Rewind's fucking dead, and while everyone else might not have to miss him because they found themselve's a replacement, Whirl has never been that lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unfortunate Fact is: Things Change

Whirl slid into the seat across from Rewind at the table, shoving Chromedome and his cube out of the way as he tapped his claws together excitedly, head bobbing.

“'Winders, buddy, you gotta hear this great movie idea I got!”

Rewind look up from his cube, straw spinning, before he snorted, a sound that made his Conjunx’s field flutter in annoyance, “Whirl, Domey was sittin’ there, move over and let him have his spot and then talk to me about whatever borderline snuff film you want today.”

Whirl’s winglets flapped, frustrated, before he tapped his pedes, stood up and climbed over the table to sit beside Rewind. Chromedome took his spot back, eyeing him with disdain through his yellow visor.

“Okay, okay, so, like, listen, okay, listen. Here, I’m thinking, okay, we start out with a wide shot of the ship-”

“How do you expect me to get a wideshot of the ship, Whirl?”

“I’m a helicopter, dummy, nyoom, I’ll give you a ride!”

Chromedome took a pariculary loud sip from his cube.

“Mm, right. Okay. Wideshot. And then?”

“Okay and THEN we cut to me, because I’m the main feature presentation, eh? And I’m like, all gung ho, like, pow pow kapow, check out these guns, huh?? And then-”

“Write me a script, Whirl, and I’ll film it.”

Whirl clapped his claws together, “Yes! I knew you had quality taste, little buddy! Lemme go find Tailgate, he’s better with the words'n stuff than me, but I’ll be back. And tell your junxy to loosen up, looks like somebody shoved a stick up his aft to rival Mags’s.”

Rewind laughed and cut himself off when Chromedome threw his straw at him.

* * *

 

“Why’s everybody wearing high waisted pants?” Rewind asked, adjusting his projecter as he adjusted his position. Whirl passed him a bucket of energon sticks, tapping one through his own lower auxillary intake.

“Eh, nineties stufF. Humans go through weird rapid fashion changes. Meanwhile,” Whirl snickered and gestured at Rewind’s chassis.

“Hey, maybe I like how I look.”

“Your juuunxy sure do,” Whirl singsonged, clacking his claws, and Rewind shoved him away with a groan.

“Primus, you’re such a newspark.”

Whirl grabbed the bucket back, to Rewind’s protest, and shoved a fistful down his intake, pointing at the monster on the projection against the wall, “See, ‘ere, check 'at one out. That there is Rhamiel, huh? Big like, dodecahedron or tetrahedron or some slag like that. Big ol’ blue shiny space thing. Shoots lazers.”

“Why is it screaming, Whirl?”

Whirl shrugged, folding his pedes under him on Rewind’s berth, “That’s just what it does, I'unno. Maybe it’s scared of your unholy shoulders or somethin’.”

“You’re unbearable,” Rewind sighed, visor still locked on the robot fight on screen.

“You still hang out with me, nerd.”

“That’s only 'cuz you got more movies I haven’t seen than Swerve, and somehow you’re still less obnoxious.”

“Whatever you say,” Whirl teased, waving his claws mockingly.

* * *

 

Whirl tried to focus on the steady clack-clack-clack of his pedes against the medbay floor as he paced, a reliable, consistent noise whose repetition was reassuring.

Cyclonus was still alive. Alive and oh Primus, the fragger was gonna be gunning for him harder than ever, now. He was alive, and Whirl was absolutely slagged.

Also, Rewind was dying.

And with Cyclonus alive that was a totally worthless sacrifice. He really really didn’t want Rewind to die, especially when it wasn’t going to improve his situation at all- this whole situation was slagged.

Rewind was Vitreous Positive.

It wasn’t exactly a common sparktype, certainly not rare, either, no, but not common, and people these days weren’t excited to divulge private information like that on a medical survey.

Whirl hadn’t been.

He focused on the clacking of his pedes against the floor, clack-clack-clack, before stomping over to First Aid’s office and rapping on the door with the outside of one claw.

“Yo, doc! I wanna talk to you.”

* * *

 

Whirl stood on his tiptoes and measured his hologram’s height against Rewind’s, giggling.

“Hey, look at that, I’m the minibot now!” He snickered, burying his mouth in his hand, before pausing.

“Ugh, Whirl, would you-” Rewind sighed, before also pausing, because Whirl had gone still, staring rigidly his hands, turning them over and flexxing his tiny fingers.

Rewind watched him for a minute, silently, before Whirl balled his hands into fists, shutting his one eye and gritting his teeth.

Rewind put one hand over Whirl’s clenched right fist and lowered it, slowly. Whirl looked up at him, before heaving out a long sigh, shrugging, and forcing on a grin.

“Been awhile, ya know? They’re all weird and whatever. Come on, 'Winders, we’re losin the group, they’re gonna find a bar and drink it out before we ever even get there.” Whirl skipped again, pulling the straps of his overalls tight and pushing his pigtails out of his vision.

* * *

 

Whirl had a particular dislike for funerals.

They were kind of stupid and kind of pointless, because it wasn’t like the dead person was gonna know about this big party for them, and Whirl suspected it was mostly for the living, but since he didn’t feel sad about anything ever, he didn’t really care.

He wasn’t sure why he was here.

It wasn’t even like anyone wanted him here- he was fidgety and noisy and overbearing, tapping his pedes and clacking his claws nervously, winglets fluttering and platelets rattling, because that was just what he did. Whirl was not quiet. Whirl did not want to be quiet. He wanted to be loud, he wanted to scream and shoot and find whoever the frag took responsibility for this bullscrap and shoot him straight in the thinkpan.

Violence was the only way he knew how to deal with what totally _weren’t_ sad feelings, because Whirl didn’t get sad, but he didn’t want to get kicked out of the funeral for fighting someone so he restrained himself, if only barely, to crushing his claws together, imagining he was pummelling Overlord’s stupid face.

His spark ached, but probably just because he was still technically recovering from sparkjumping Rewind, not that it had really mattered.

* * *

 

Whirl slid into the seat across from the new Rewind at the messhall table, shoving Chromedome out of the way.

“Rewiiiind, li'l buddy!! How it goes? Okay, so, listen listen, I been thinkin’ of this rad movie slag for our next big ticket film but with you bein’ dead and all it wasn’t lookin’ like it was happenin’, but here you are! I can def get the Teeg to write the script, you know, claws and all, but like, I wanna run my idea by you first, 'kay? So-”

“Frag off, Whirl.”

Whirl stopped, and stared. Rewind continued to read his datapad, sucking energon from his cube through a straw without looking up.

“Huh?”

Rewind looked up at him, visor cold and frustrated, “I said frag off, Whirl, don’t shove my Conjunx, and don’t tell me about your stupid movie.”

Whirl continued to stare, optic dilating, “…okay.” He said, and stood, stepping over the seat and away, casting a few looks back over his shoulders at Rewind, who had returned to his datapad, while Chromedome took his seat back.

* * *

 

Whirl paced outside of Rewind and Chromedome’s habsuite, focusing on the clack-clack-clack of his pedes against the metal floors and their textured grip. Finally, he turned, taking a deep vent and fluttering his winglets, before rapping on the doorframe with a claw. It slid open, with Tailgate standing in front of the doorway.

“Oh! Nutcase! Hey, haven’t seen you at movie night in awhile.”

Whirl shrugged, folding his arms under his cockpit, “Eh, yeah, had better things to do than watch the trite slag 'Winder-redux has been pickin’ out. But tonight’s flick is Jurassic Park, huh? That’s totally my thing.”

“Ugh, Primus, is that Whirl again?” Rewind’s voice came softly from inside the room, “How many times to I have to tell him to frag off? There’s too much breakable stuff in here.”

Tailgate figeted uncomfortably, “Um. I wanna let you in, but-”

“Frag it,” Whirl said, spinning around and away, “I didn’t wanna hang out with you midgets anyway. What do I care?”

The door shut.

* * *

 

Whirl grit the tips of his claws together so hard the ends were starting to bend and crumple, his platelets quivering with the force of his restraint.

Fake-Rewind, New-Rewind, Not-Rewind, Other-Rewind, Not-Friend-Rewind was practically sobbing into his Conjunx’s chest, because he’d just doomed them all. He’d just willingly let the functionists win, after what they’d done to him.

After what they’d done to all of them.

He wanted them to do more.

He let them win.

He let them win.

He let them win.

He grabbed Megatron’s corpse, optic darting to an open doorway.


End file.
